


A Clipped Wing Doesn't Mean You Can't Fly

by thornsword (eeeeeeee)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Disabled Character, KageHina - Freeform, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mutual Pining, Physical Disability, Prosthesis, but surprisingly not a lot, disabled!Hinata, dumb birbs, prosthetic, smol crows, this is one of my favourite things I've written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeee/pseuds/thornsword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata Shōyō has had only half of his left leg since he was ten, but after seeing the small giant on tv he decides that he’s going to play volleyball no matter what. Armed with a prosthetic leg and a whole lotta firepower, he keeps everything a secret so he can continue playing. Of course, secrets never stay that way for long…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo!
> 
> So this is based on the prompt I found at imaginethehaikyuukids.tumblr.com ^__^
> 
> Pairing(s): mild pre-slash Kagehina
> 
> Warnings: swearing, and my knowledge on prosthetics is limited to what I could research so it’s not much, and it’s un-beta’d, but thank you to ilikefandomsmorethanpeople on tumblr for checking over it for me. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I can’t draw. 
> 
> Definitions:
> 
> K-level: “K-levels are defined by Medicare based on an individual's ability or potential to ambulate and navigate their environment. Once it is determined in which K-level an individual resides, it can be determined which prosthetic components are covered by Medicare.” The scale ranges from 0-4, and I took it to mean the higher the number, the more likely it is you're able to move at your best and perform strenuous activities.
> 
> Vacuum suspension: There are two other kinds of suspensions for prosthetic legs, but this one is the best for lots of activity. It works by sucking all the air out of the socket, but I don’t know much more than that sorry.
> 
> Enjoy!

**“He is surely a Small Giant!!”**

 

Hinata can’t explain what he’s feeling. Something’s bubbling up inside him and it’s all _gwaa!_ and _eeeep!_ and it feels like his chest is about to explode. He wants to run around, jump, hit something- _anything_ to expel this energy building up inside him. More than anything, he wants to play volleyball.

 

A stabbing pain just below his knee. That’s what catapults him back to reality. Or rather, a stabbing pain where his left leg ends. 

 

The _gwaa!!_ feeling turns into a horrible sludge sinking into his stomach. What was he thinking? He has _one fucking leg._ There was no way Hinata Shōyō was going to play volleyball. Ever.

 

He turned his head away from the dazzling screen - something was trying to pull him back, _no,_ it said, _watch till the end, watch till the end!_ But he didn’t listen - and, with the sludge-like feeling sinking ever deeper, Hinata kept a white-knuckled grip on his crutches as he hobbled back home, determinedly avoiding the pitiful stares from passersby.

 

When Hinata was ten, he was in an accident. There he was, walking across the road without looking. There were no cars coming - he was _fine!_

 

He was fine, until he wasn’t. 

 

He tripped - probably over _fucking nothing -_ and, because it was _just his luck,_ a car came speeding round the corner and it was really surprising how the driver hadn’t noticed him because _have you seen his hair-_

 

Crunch. _Pain_. 

 

Hinata doesn’t remember the feeling of the car running over his leg. He remembers that it _hurt,_ oh hell had it _hurt, so much that he couldn’t think straight,_ but he doesn't remember much other than that.

 

He had screamed until he lost his voice, and by then was so loopy on morphine Hinata just fell asleep. 

 

The reason he was using crutches instead of a prosthetic now was because do you _know_ how much they _cost??_

 

He shook his head. Thinking about that day never did anyone any good. A ghost ache flared up in a limb he didn’t have, but he shook his head, dispelling it. 

 

The walk home gave him lots of time to think, however. Lots of time to decide that he was going to play volleyball no matter _how_ many useable limbs he had. Lots of time to say _fuck you_ to the pitiful stares and annoying whispers.

 

Hinata Shōyō was going to get himself another fucking leg.

 

His mother was surprised at first, when he told her - wide-eyed shock, then a smile, then a teary nod.

 

_“Oh Shou,”_ she had said, before engulfing him in a warm hug, making him loose his balance and lean entirely on her. She didn’t mind.

 

Apparently, She had been saving up for the entirety of the three years since the accident incase Hinata ever asked that question, and he didn’t know how to thank her. Words were never really Hinata’s _thing_ anyway. 

 

Hinata didn’t start junior high along with everyone else that year. He was homeschooled so his learning could compromise with his therapy sessions.

 

_Therapy sessions._ The notion was new and exciting and the _gwaa!_ feeling was returning, except there was a lot more _aaAAAH_ and _bfffahnfdmf_ mixed in there as well.

 

It was two days before the appointment came around. Hinata could barely sit still as his mother explained that he wanted to be able to play volleyball

 

He would have two legs. Two fully-functional, totally jump-able legs. Legs he could walk with, jump with, _soar_ with- and no he was not crying _fuck you._

 

He knew that it would be a while before he could _‘soar’_ \- months and months and _months_ of therapy - but he was going to do it, no matter what.

 

Well, that’s what he said, but he hadn’t known how much it would _hurt._ Not the _I have a paper cut between two of my fingers_ kind either, more like the _my leg is being pressed against hot coals. Well fuck,_ variety.

 

And that was only the beginning. His first year of rehabilitation - he didn’t like the phrase _year_ in this sense because what he did in that year, all the pain and sweat and torn muscles he endured could not _possibly_ be captured by a four-letter word - involved only three things. One of which was memorising how to desensitise his leg (Hinata refused to call what was left a stump. That sounded stupid.).

 

It was a complicated ritual of towel-dabbing, compression-bandage-using and rubbing and pulling in random places, which seemed really weird, but he did it anyway because he did _not_ want anything to hurt any more than it had to. 

 

Next came _how to get from random places - e.g. his bed - to the wheelchair._

 

Oh how Hinata _hated_ the wheelchair. Do you know how _hard_ it is so move a wheelchair?? One tiny bump and _bam!_ you’re stuck. Forever. Or, until your prosthetistcomes over to pull you away gently, murmuring in your ear how _“backing up and going over it all in one go usually helps.”_

 

After that came the bit that _hurt._

 

_“Casual Walking,”_ they called it. There was nothing _casual_ about _Casual Walking._

 

They had fitted him with a practice leg - an unbalanced, skin-coloured thing with a big metal pole sticking through it - and his prosthetist had set him up on one end of a set of bars. 

 

While Hinata was in the wheelchair, the task seemed easy - walk to the other end of the two-or-three-metre lane, using the bars for support. 

 

That was what? Ten steps? Thirteen? Piece of cake.

 

Until he stood up.

 

(That’s where the _my leg is being pressed against hot coals. Well fuck._ feeling came in)

 

 

The thing is, when you have a prosthetic, it doesn’t negate the fact that you have _half your leg missing,_ so you have to compensate for not having those muscles. The muscles that are pretty necessary for _walking._

 

Hinata gritted his teeth, and grasped the bars on either side of him, arms taking as much of his body weight as they could and quivering dangerously at the effort. 

 

He didn’t even make it a step before he collapsed. 

 

He got better though. It took _so very long_ and it hurt _so very much,_ but he got better. 

 

In Hinata’s first year of rehabilitation, he _walked,_ and the first time he made it all the way to the end of those god-forsaken bars, collapsing to the floor in a heap of sweat and elation, all he could say was _“I fucking walked,”_ before relenting to his heavy eyelids, and falling asleep right there in the hospital gym. 

 

What he got for christmas that year, was his first actual prosthetic. It was sleek and black and it bent where his foot should be and when the prosthetist showed him Hinata had to remind himself how to breath. 

 

Hinata had seen the Paralympics. It was the kind of prosthetics _athletes_ had. 

 

It was a weird feeling, putting it on for the first time. It was different hearing _‘_ vacuum suspension’ versus _experiencing_ ‘vacuum suspension.’ The sock-like thing came up over his knee, and all the air was sucked out of the socket. It was the weirdest feeling he had experienced.

 

During that first, life-changing appointment, the prosthetist had asked him a bunch of questions - _what do you want out of this prosthetic? How much excersise do you want to be doing? When was your last growth spurt? What where you doing prior to needing the prosthetic? -_ and ran a bunch of tests - _I have a K-level of four fight me_ \- before explaining that for his level of activity the prosthetic would be hard to hide, and looking at it now, Hinata understood why. 

 

The bend of metal where his foot should be was _wide_ , so much so that he was going to have to wear _bellbottoms_ or something like that to keep it hidden. 

 

He had already decided he was going to keep his prosthetic a secret, because he knew that most people would never let a kid with one leg play.

 

There was a _vast_ difference from the practice leg he was walking with before - a lump of flesh-coloured plastic and unbalanced metal that he could barely control - to this one. He felt like he could actually _move_ with it. 

 

_This,_ he thought, beaming as he stood up for the first time, the _gwaa!!_ feeling rising in his throat again, _with this, I can jump._

 

“Are you sure about volleyball though?” his prosthetist asked, “I’m not saying anything against it - but with your height, and all that jumping and running around for long periods of time could really put a strain on your residual limb.”

 

“Fight me,” was Hinata’s immediate response, “I’m gonna play volleyball.”

 

Hinata Shōyō trained harder than he ever had in his life. He spent ages jumping, running, getting his mum to do - really quite bad - tosses so he could spike them. With each _slap_ of the ball, and the stinging in his red-raw palm, he smiled so hard his cheeks hurt, the _aaaAAAAAAAHH_ feeling more prominent than ever. 

 

Hinata Shōyō started his second year of junior high on two legs. 

 

He also started it in a _school,_ which was new. Over halfway through the school year, but that didn’t matter Yukigaoka Junior High was _it,_ he was finally going to play volleyball with a _team_ in an actual _match._

 

As is turned out, if he wore long pants, it didn’t look like he was wearing a prosthetic at all. Putting a shoe on the end of it, however, after all this time of going - for lack of a better word - barefoot, was the strange part.

 

“I’m… the only member?”

 

The teacher chuckled good-naturedly. “Yeah, the boy’s volleyball ‘club’ has been decreasing in members each year - it’s only an appreciation group now, that’s why you don’t need any more people.”

 

Hinata’s world split. 

 

“and…” he continued, looking over his student records, “are you sure you can even play volleyball?”

 

Hinata puffed out his chest. “I may be small, but I can jump!”

 

The teacher smiled. “It’s not that…it’s your prosthetic leg.”

 

_No._

 

_“I can jump,”_ he reiterated. 

 

“Well, you’re welcome to play with the girls, but for now you are the only member,” the teacher sighed, glancing at his left leg. 

 

Hinata walked out of the teacher’s office with a fiery determination in his chest and a volleyball in his hand. 

 

From then on, he practiced anywhere he could - hallways, in the corner of the gym, on the edge of sports fields - and repetitively ambushed his friends to  beg ask for a toss.

 

(He had friends. This was new. Homeschooling doesn’t give you very many opportunities to meet people)

 

“Three… first years?”

 

_Third year of junior high. Spring._

 

“It seems that they played a little in elementary.”

 

They could have _no idea whatsoever_ how to play volleyball, and Hinata wouldn’t have cared. 

 

“Uwaaaaaa we did it!”

 

———

 

_There’s tons of people here, the gymnasium’s huge and…_

 

“The smell of Air Salonpas!”

 

“Hey Shou-chan, aren’t you too nervous?”

 

“What are you, some country hick?”

 

Hinata pouted. “Th-that’s because we’re really starting out in a tournament!”

 

The words echoed around in his head, sweat beading at his forehead already - although that was because it was _way_ too hot to be wearing long pants, but he managed to keep his prosthetic a secret - he was finally, _finally_ here. A tournament. The first, and last, of his high junior high school life. 

 

“Izumin, Kouji, thanks for coming to help,” he told them gratefully.

 

The pair looked surprised. 

 

_“Quit it! That’s awkward!”_

 

_“We’re one step closer to the end of the tournament, huh?”_

 

Hinata smiled, tears welling in his eyes as he turned to the first years. “And you three miraculous first years too!! Thanks so much for joining!!!!”

 

_“Ah yes! Though we’re basically still novices.”_

 

A menacing aura. A large group of people walked past, all wearing matching jerseys. _Kitagawa Daiichi._

 

Their first opponents. 

 

_“King of the Court.”_

 

_“Favourites to win.”_

 

_“Incredible…”_

 

There was a stabbing pain just below his knee, shooting up his thigh. Hinata passed it off as nausea. 

 

He hobbled down to the the bathroom, limping and trying to keep his weight off his prosthetic. Sitting down in the stall, Hinata rolled up his pants and slid the liner and sock down as far as he could before squirting some lotion on his hands and massaging the skin. It felt a lot better after that, but he knew it wouldn’t totally relieve the pain. 

 

It was fine. This kind of pain he was used to. 

 

Letting out a harsh breath through his nose, Hinata tugged the liner and sock back up - rubbing some more lotion so it wouldn’t slip down - and opened the stall door. 

 

“-Yukigaoka Junior High? I’ve never heard of it.”

 

Snapping his head around, Hinata saw three boys filling up water bottles. 

 

“More like, didn’t they have hardly any players? No libero either!”

 

“Not to mention half of them were elementary students.”

 

“Hah?! They’re first years aren’t they?”

 

“They’re _practically_ elementary students. How do they plan to compete against us, huh?”

 

Hinata was _fuming._ Did they _know_ what he did just to _be_ here, standing firmly on two legs like everyone else??

 

“Oi you lot!” he called, making them flinch in surprise, “Don’t look down on us!”

 

They turned to face him. 

 

(Pain. Did rubbing it do _anything??)_

 

“Once my… stomach settles down, you better be prepared ‘cause we’ll really give you…”

 

(Pain.)

 

“…Something to..”

 

_(Pain.)_

 

“Cry about during the… match…”

 

_( P a i n . )_

 

“ugh…. _uuugghhh..”_

 

There was a beat of silence. Then they _laughed._

 

“Are you serious?! We’ll be looking forward to it!”

 

_“It’s an elementary student!”_

 

_“but he’s wearing the captain’s mark isn’t he? He’s the captain!”_

 

Hinata gripped the fabric of his shirt. _They’re making fun of me._

 

“Oi second years!” 

 

They all turned to face the person who spoke. 

 

_Gwah! That’s the King of the Court!_

 

“We’re starting the official warm up,” he scowled, “hurry up and get to it.”

 

_“Crap, it’s Kageyama-san.”_

 

“Sorry, we’ll get back right away”

 

The setter turned to  glare look at him. Hinata flinched back.

 

“Even if we filled them up, there’s no way we’d drink this many - I mean, those Yukigaoka guys are our opponents!”

 

“Haha for sure!”

 

“Wha-?” Hinata’s attention was drawn back to the mouthy second years, leg still aching, “What’d you say!”

 

“You lot,” the King of the Court started, “You’re on the bench. Do you really expect to get stronger by looking down on your opponents? Don’t ride on the coattails of your school’s name.”

 

_Uwaa he’s scary…Don’t get overwhelmed! Say something Shōyō!_

 

“I wa.. was just about to say that you know!”

 

(Pain.)

 

“…urgh.”

 

Kageyama turned his head slighty. “It’s only natural to be prepared for a match,” he said coldly, “guys who can’t even manage their own bodies-“

 

_Oh you did not just say that._

 

“-Shouldn’t say such self important things. Just what did you come here to do? _Make memories?”_

 

_Now he was angry._

 

“I came here to win, of course!” Hinata told him sternly, back ramrod straight and staring up at the setter.

 

Kageyama stopped side-on and looked at him. “You say that as if it’s something easy. You came here despite knowing that height is essential for volleyball?”

 

“It’s true I’m not very tall,” Hinata agreed, ”but… I can jump!”

 

_I can jump and that is so very amazing because do you know how hard it was?_

 

Before he knew it, he was bowing at the start of the match. His head came down lower than any of his team mates because he was that much shorter, but he didn’t take his eyes off the King of the Court. 

 

_We haven’t lost yet we haven’t lost yet._ Hinata chanted the words in his head like a mantra. The game was in shambles, even _he_ could see that, but still he ran, he jumped, he _dove_ and it was amazing his shoe didn’t fall off. 

 

_It hasn’t fallen yet, we haven’t lost yet, jump, jump, j u m p!_

 

“That guy took a point from us!”

 

Kageyama. The King of the Court. He was taking them seriously.

 

Hinata smiled, the ache finally dissipating from his leg. He leaned in it experimentally. _Good,_ he thought, _now I can really jump._

 

Izumi reached his hands up, palms spread out wide and elbows bent slightly, but just when he was about to set it to Hinata, his fingers bent backward and the ball sailed off behind him.

 

“Shou-chan it’s up too…” he trailed off, craning his neck back and eyes wide.

 

Hinata squared his shoulders. _I can jump._

 

He took off, reaching the other side of the court faster than he thought he could. Tension built in his thighs, and Hinata Shōyō _jumped,_ his right leg propelling him into the air, arms twisting his body around, palm coming to meet the ball…

 

_Thwack!_

 

It was out. The match ended. 

 

“Shou-chan it’s time to line up.” 

 

Hinata didn’t react. He could feel the pitying eyes of his teammates on him, as well as the glare of the King of the court, but all he could do was stand there, head down and mind reeling. 

 

“What have you been doing for the past three years?!!”

 

_How._

 

_Dare._

 

_You._

 

_That was the first, and last match of my junior high school life. It lasted a whole 31 minutes and the number of sets won was zero, but these last three years I have gone through hell just to be standing here._

 

“If you’re the reigning ‘King of the Court,’ then I’ll overthrow you from your title and I’ll be the one who stands on the court for the longest!!”

 

_“If you want to advance, try growing stronger.”_

 

That was what the Kin- _Kageyama Tobio_ told him, and so he did. He trained with the girl’s volleyball club, the neighbourhood mothers- _anyone_. He would stand on his own two feet because he finally _could_ and he would _overthrow the King of the Court._

 

Miyagi Prefecture’s Karasuno High School. Spring.

 

Hinata had gotten a bike for Christmas, one with an odd-looking left pedal so it would be easier for him to ride. He has a shoe on, and he still trips more than he doesn’t but he’s getting better. 

 

_“I’ll overthrow you!”_

 

The words rang in his head as he rode into his new school, beaming at the background chatter and how he can hear the upperclassmen trying to get new members for their clubs. 

 

_This is it. I’m finally here._

 

_“He is surely a Small Giant!!”_

 

Karasuno High. 

 

Buzzing with excitement, Hinata locked up his bike and sped off towards the gym, ducking around various people - including one that wanted him to join the… soccer club? Basketball club? He didn’t really pay attention. He was _so close,_ he pushed open the doors and…

 

“Why are _you_ here?!”

 

Kageyama Tobio had come to Karasuno. 

 

_No no no, this isn’t how it was meant to go!_

 

They fought. A lot (and knocked the vice principal’s wig off _w h o o p s)._ So much so on just the first day that the captain kicked them out and told them not to come back until they learned to get along. 

 

Which was never going to happen so _why bother?_ Hinata just wanted to play volleyball. He didn’t see the _point_ in getting along with _Mr._ _I want so receive, spike and toss all by myself,_ but to be able to play volleyball. _Actual_ volleyball on an _actual_ team, he had to at least pretend. 

 

They were going to have a 3-on-3 match, with the other first years. 

 

_“Tomorrow’s practice starts a seven am, right?”_

 

They glared at each other. 

 

_Be here at five. Don’t you dare be late!_

 

_It’s you who is going to be late._

 

In actual fact they were both there promptly at 4:55 am. 

 

_Ah good,_ Hinata thought, _the idiot’s wearing long pants as well- hey so is Tanaka-senpai!_

 

They practiced for an hour, and during that time Hinata managed to fall on his face more times than he had before. Kageyama’s fast passes were _so fast,_ compared to the ones his mum threw him in the hospital gymnasium, or his friends threw him back in junior high. 

 

“Hey Hinata!” Tanaka-senpai called, “aren’t you getting hot in those long pants? You brought shorts right?”

 

“N-no, I’m good,” was his shaky reply. That was a lie. It was _so incredibly hot,_ Hinata could feel the sweat dripping down, onto the metal and he wondered offhandedly if his prosthetic could rust. It probably could. 

 

The _last_ thing he needed was Kageyama finding out he only had half of his left leg. He would probably click his tongue and say something along the lines of: _“A person with a leg missing shouldn’t be anywhere near the court, dumbass. Why are you even trying? You can’t play volleyball like that.”_

 

Hinata’s heart clenched. No, he would keep this a secret. 

 

He trained with Suga-senpai that lunchtime, working on passes and receives. 

 

He pointed out the difference between _‘strongest enemy’_ and _‘strongest ally,’_ which reminded Hinata that Kageyama told him he wasn’t necessary for victory and hegot pissed off again, so he just bushed off the words.

 

For the next two days, he practiced with everyone in the mornings - the _early_ mornings, it may as well be _night time -_ and Suga-senpai at lunch times. Lunch times were his favourite practices because Suga-senpai was so _nice_ and _good at teaching_ and it was a welcomed change from _that tyrant._

 

Thursday. 5:30 am. 

 

Hinata clenched his teeth in an unconscious scowl, receiving the ball every which way Kageyama threw it. His leg was aching slightly from the long hours, but it didn’t matter, he was doing it. 

 

The ball went just over Kageyama’s head, and the setter hesitated. 

 

“Don’t you go easy on me!” Hinata yelled. 

 

The setter looked pissed off. “Fine by me!” he retorted, before grabbing the ball and _slamming_ it down onto Hinata’s arms. 

 

They kept going, the sound of his own ragged breath roaring in his ears. 

 

“You won’t be able to take this any longer-“

 

“The ball hasn’t dropped yet!” Hinata yelled, huffing and puffing and _glaring_ at the King of the Court. 

 

The ball flew over his head. 

 

_No._

 

_No way am I letting that drop._

 

_Not now._

 

He was crouched on the ground, his prosthetic against the floor in an awkward angle but something _pwah_ and _grrr_ filled his chest and Hinata used his right leg to get a good footing, before shooting off towards the ball. 

 

_I’m not gonna make it I’m not gonna make it-_

 

_Dive!!_

 

The ball bounced off his wrist, and went straight back to Kageyama. 

 

Who, to his surprise and _joy,_ tossed it in the air, high above the net. 

 

Hinata was tired, but with one final burst of adrenalin, he ran at full speed towards the net before jumping up and.. 

 

_Wham!_

 

There was a stinging sensation in his palm, his chest was moving up and down rapidly and he was almost certain he was going to puke, but Hinata had never felt better. 

 

_He had spiked a toss from an actual setter._

 

“On Saturday,” he heard Kageyama start, and he looked up. The bastard was barely even puffing, “let’s win it.”

 

_Let’s win it._

 

Not _I’ll win it,_ or _don’t get in my way,_ or _you suck,_ but _let’s win it._

 

Both of them.

 

_“Because for you, he is the ‘strongest enemy’…”_ he remembered Suga-senpai saying. 

 

_For me, he is the ‘strongest enemy,’ but now he’s become the ‘strongest ally.’_

 

He still felt sick, and his leg was _really_ hurting him now. He could deal with the enemy vs ally crap later. 

 

———

 

Hinata had come to the swift and precise conclusion that Tsukishima was a dick. 

 

There they were, practicing like usual - the ball was in the tree and they were arguing - when some tall, blond four-eyes comes along with his high-pitched shadow, grabs their ball and calls him an _elementary student._

 

Well _fuck you too._

 

The bastard tells them he’d gladly throw the game, which pisses both of them off and by the time it’s just Hinata and Kageyama again, he’s pretty sure all four of them have come away from this encounter annoyed. 

 

Aside from the part when Hinata jumped over his stupid blond head and grabbed the ball. That was pretty cool. 

 

Now it was Saturday - Tsukishima was _still_ a dick, Hinata saw the beautiful girl they had as a manager and it didn’t smell like Air Salonpas, but Tanaka-senpai’s enthusiasm, as well as Kageyama’s intensity made it seem as real a match as any other. 

 

The pretty manager blew a whistle, and the game started. 

 

Tanaka-senpai took the first point, spiking it so hard the cocky bastard didn’t have a chance to block it. The ball hit his hand and went straight down to the floor, scoring a point. 

 

Hinata smiled, something buzzing in his feet and swelling in his chest. 

 

_I want to spike I want to spike I want to-_

 

“Hinata!” Kageyama yelled, tossing the ball perfectly to him. 

 

Keeping that same determined smile on his face, he ran up towards the net, arms swinging out behind them before jumping high in the air, his palm connecting swiftly with the ball and…

 

…Was promptly blocked. 

 

_There’s another high, high wall._

 

“It surprised me yesterday too, but you really can jump,” Tuskishima told him, and Hinata could just _tell_ he was being looked down on, “now only if you were a whoooole thirty centimetres taller, you’d probably be a real superstar.”

 

_Dick._

 

_Again_ and _again,_ Hinata was blocked. He didn’t even bother keeping track because it happened _every time._

 

It was getting _really_ hot under his long pants, and his prosthetic _wouldn’t stop hurting. This must be why I keep getting blocked,_ Hinata thought, _because it hurts, so I’m not jumping high enough._

 

He shook his head. _I can’t blame my leg on everything. There’s something else… but what?_

 

“Oi Chibi-chan, do you know why this guy is called _the King_?” 

 

Hinata thought the answer was obvious. “It’s ‘cause he’s really cool, right?” he answered immediately, “and guys from other schools are scared of him.”

 

“The nickname was actually given to him by _his own team,”_ Tukishima smirked, “because he is a selfish, egotistical King - a tyrannical dictator.” 

 

_What did that matter? Why was he being told this in the middle of a match? He had to figure out a way to get past the tall bastard’s blocks!_

 

“It’s just a rumour I heard, but one time he took his oppressiveness to an extreme and was forcefully benched.” 

 

Well that was unexpected. Hinata looked over to Kageyama, who avoided his gaze. 

 

“But that’s just a story about junior high right?” Hinata announced, he was just stating the obvious but _why did they look so surprised?_ He was sure everyone’s changed since junior high. Images appeared in his mind of the first few _casual walking_ sessions he went through, struggling and sweating and _crying-_ “since you toss the ball to me properly and all, that stuff doesn’t matter to me.”

 

As long as he got to play volleyball. 

 

And knocked Tsukishima on his smug ass. That was important too. 

 

There was a free ball, and both he and Tanaka-senpai called for it. Kageyama was half way into saying the second-year’s name when Hinata jumped behind the setter. 

 

“Kageyama!” he exclaimed, his body twisting in preparation for the spike, “I’m here!”

 

The decision seemingly not passing through any sort of thinking process, except for maybe some vague surprise, Kageyama tossed the ball to Hinata. 

 

There was a rush of air, and Hinata didn’t feel like he hit the ball _nearly_ as hard as he should have, but he scored the point nonetheless. 

 

Kageyama whirled around. “All of a sudden you-“

 

“But I was right there to receive the ball!” he interjected, “I don’t care about any of that stuff from junior high! For me, no matter what toss it is, it’s one that I really wanna receive! I’ll jump anywhere! Hit any ball! So..”

 

Hinata turned to face Kageyama. “Keep on tossing it my way!”

 

_I still want to stand on the court. Despite my height, despite my leg, I’ll become a Small Giant and see the view on the other side of the net!_

 

“Things like disadvantages and disability don’t matter to me at all,” he announced firmly, a hand to his chest and pain in his leg, “With this body, I’m gonna fight, and _win,_ and _keep winning -_ I want to stand on even more courts!”

 

“You think ‘feelings’ can fill the height gap?” Dick-With-Glasses replied, “You might want to consider becoming a libero.”

 

“Clearing the wall in front of the spiker,” Kageyama chimed in, his voice low and determined as he came to stand next to Hinata, “is what a setter’s for.”

 

Once the confrontation had ended, Kageyama turned towards him, finger pointed at his chest and the same haughty look on his face. He had a plan. 

 

“If you can’t return the ball, then dodge. Using all of your physical ability and reflexes, hit my toss.”

 

It was a good plan. In theory. 

 

Those tosses were just _too damn fast._

 

After many, _many_ failed spikes, Kageyama got a talking-to from Suga-senpai, and Hinata didn’t understand a word of it but it must of been _something_ because soon enough Kagaeyama was _also_ blurting out strange things:

 

“I’m jealous of your physical ability!” he announced abashedly, “that’s why you, who has the ability but is still horrible, annoy me!”

 

_“Hah??”_

 

“I will have you show all of your ability!”

 

“The heck?” Tanaka-senpai asked rhetorically. Hinata agreed. 

 

“At your fastest speed, perform your highest jump, and I will get the ball to you!”

 

Hinata grinned. _Now_ he was talking sense. Not only that, but he was talking about _something that might actually work._

 

_Jump as fast and as high as you can where there’s no blocker. Then, hit with all your might. You_ **_don’t need to see_ ** _my toss. You_ **_don’t need to connect_ ** _with the ball._

 

When he said that, there was a different air about him - something not _‘king-like’_ at all, more… ‘ _captain,’_ or ‘ _team mate,’_ so for now, Hinata would trust in the genius setter. He would trust in Kageyama.

 

So he ran. 

 

Hinata Shōyō ran, painfully aware of the different feeling his left leg made as it thumped against the wooden floor, and then he jumped, closing his eyes tight so he wouldn’t see the ball, swinging his hand with blind ferocity. 

 

_Slap. Sting. Thwap!!_

 

He opened his eyes wide, smiling from ear to ear at the sensation. 

 

“Alright!” cheered Kageyama. 

 

“I hit it! With this hand!”

 

_With this I can get past the blockers!_

 

Daichi-san looked shaken. “Just.. Just now, from the moment he jumped to the moment he swung at the ball, Hinata had his eyes closed.”

 

_“WHAT??”_

 

Of course he did. Otherwise he would have seen the ball, right? Hinata voiced this thought to the others and didn’t understand why they were so shocked. 

 

_I’ll get the ball to you next time too, so believe in me and jump,_ Hinata repeated the words in his head ruefully as he was hit in the face, _sure Kageyama._

 

Now the setter was _grinning._

 

“Oi, why’re you grinning?” he asked, annoyed, “Don’t screw with me! That’s the second time it’s hit me in the face!!”

 

_Haaah, I need to get better at this._

 

“No matter how many time you toss it to that shortie, it’ll end up in failure, if you only target Tanaka-san then..” Tsukishima trailed off as Hinata ran towards the net _fast,_ “Yamaguchi! You come too! We’ll stop it together!!”

 

_“A wall. Listen, if you can’t return the ball…”_ Hinata’s right foot was parallel to the net, stopping only briefly as he changed directions, _“dodge it.”_

 

And he did. Back around Kageyama and all the way over to the other side of the court. He could see Tuskishima running towards him, but before he could get there Hinata closed his eyes and jumped, swinging his arm out in front of him. 

 

_Slap. Sting…_

 

_Then now, in this moment alone. This is the highest point. Before my eyes, it blocks a path. A high, high wall… What sort of scene is it on the other side? How can I see it? By myself I will never be able to see it, this is…_

 

Hinata opened his eyes, and saw the sunlight glaring in through the windows, the doors on the other side of the gym, Daichi-san moving in slow motion towards the ball, knees bent and arms in the middle of stretching out for the ball, Tsukishima’s desperate expression, arm extended as far out as it could, but it wasn’t even in sight of the ball. 

 

… _The view from the top._

 

_Thwap!!_

 

The ball landed hard on the floor, and there was a beat of silence as everyone turned to stare at them. 

 

_“Alright!!”_

 

———

 

“You’re thinking of something weird, aren’t you dumbass?”

 

Hinata’s thoughts came flying back to the present. It was summer. The time was 5 am. He and Kageyama were just about to race to school. He had a better prosthetic (because despite what everyone said _he had grown, just a little bit)_ and Karasuno had just been defeated by Abajōsai in the Interhigh Preliminaries. 

 

“Oi, dumbass, did you hear me?”

 

Suddenly Kageyama’s face was _way too close_ and Hinata’s cheeks felt _way too warm._

 

He let out an exclamation of surprise, backing away. If it wasn’t sunrise, Hinata would have thought the setter’s cheeks were a bit red as well. But it _was_ sunrise, so he didn’t. 

 

“I-I heard you Bakageyama!” Hinata yelled, “and I wasn’t thinking of anything weird!”

 

“Oh, what _were_ you thinking about then?”

 

“…The day we made the freak quick.”

 

Kageyama stopped in his tracks for a few seconds, and Hinata wondered if he was going to say something, but then he just kept moving. 

 

Okay, so they weren’t racing today. Hinata steadied his bike, putting all his weight on his right foot to get off…

 

…When the bastard broke into a sprint towards the school.

 

“Bakageyama!!” he yelled, clambering back onto his bike and peddling like crazy to catch up to his setter. 

 

_His_ setter? _Ugh that’s gross. I’m gross. Why do I even like him?_

 

Hinata had found a better way of packing his sneaker, so it didn’t feel as weird when he walked on it, but it was a feeling he didn’t think he would ever get used to. 

 

(Pain.) 

 

He winced, before shaking it off. It was fine, just the usual random spikes he got when riding his bike - the circle motion he had to do with his feet sometimes made the prosthetic… uncomfortable, but it was the fastest way to get up the mountain. 

 

When they arrived at Karasuno, they were both panting, drenched in sweat, and the sun was newly risen in the sky. 

 

“It’s… so… _hot,”_ Hinata complained as Kageyama unlocked the gym, “why don’t we have air con? We should have air con.”

 

They both moved into the locker room, where hinata removed his jacket, and Kageyama took off his jacket and changed into shorts. 

 

“You know if you’re that hot, then you should just roll up you pants, or bring a pair of shorts,” the setter told him sternly, “I don’t think Daichi-san or the others would mind of they weren’t the actual PE shorts.”

 

Hinata gulped. “I… um… you see, the thing is I,” he babbled nervously, scrambling for a good excuse, “… have a really embarrassing scar!”

 

“A scar?” Kageyama repeated curiously, “from what? Can I see it?”

 

**“No!”**

 

There was way too much anger and seriousness in his tone, and Hinata realised his mistake too late when Kageyama took a step back. 

 

“Um, I mean… it’s _super_ embarrasing! Like, my mum and my sister have seen it and _that’s it!!”_

 

All he got was a raised eyebrow in response. Kageyama didn’t believe him _at all,_ but shrugged anyway and began making his way outside. 

 

**(Pain.)**

 

His knees buckled and Hinata was sent crashing onto the floor, landing hard on his left leg. 

 

_What’s wrong with me? It’s not usually this bad._

 

“Hinata! Are you okay?” 

 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine!” he called back, “what, are you worried?”

 

“… Of- _Of course not,_ you dumbass!” Kageyama exclaimed, and if Hinata didn’t know better he’d say the setter was blushing. But he did, so it was obviously just his own wishful thinking. 

 

He was a _guy._ A guy with _one leg -_ why in all the world would Kageyama ever like _him??_

 

Throughout their early morning practice, Hinata felt like he was continually off his game because _his fucking leg kept sending arrows of white-hot pain up his leg and_ ** _shit_** _that hurt._

 

Hinata could only grit his teeth and keep going, because even though Ukai let him play - he had all the medical records of the players, so Hinata assumed he must have proved himself enough to play regularly - he couldn’t afford to fall behind. He couldn;t miss a day of pract-

 

_(Pain. Pa_ **_in. Pain. PAIN.)_ **

 

Shit. Today was just _not his fucking day._

 

For the first time in his life, Hinata wished volleyball practice could just _be over._

 

The rest of the team arrived and he was counting down the minutes. 

 

He really can’t afford for this to happen right now. They were just beaten down by Abajōsai, and Hinata can’t be benched for the Spring High Tournament. _No way_ is he letting that happen. He has _half a leg_ for fucks sake, it doesn’t mean he can’t play. 

 

_But what if they don’t think that?_

 

It was always in the back of his thoughts, always nagging at the euphoria of hitting Kageyama’s tosses, at the amazing feeling of being in an actual match…

 

_What if they take one look at you and kick you off the team? Shove you into the cheering squad? “Hey Hinata, how about you become the next manager?”_

 

This was why he endured the heat of the sweatpants he always trained in, why he pushed through al the pain of moving like he did with the prosthetic, why he trained as hard as he did. He loved volleyball, and his team - Daichi, Suga, Kage-

 

Hinata shook his head, refusing to go down the path of what _Kageyama_ might think. Nope. Not going there. 

 

**_(Pain.)_ **

 

Daichi-san called for everyone to split up and do receive training, but he called some other names to go do something else and Hinata didn’t know or didn’t care because his name wasn’t mentioned and it was all he could do to keep throwing the ball at Tanaka-senpai for him to receive. 

 

**_(P a i n.)_ **

 

Oh this was too much. The pain felt like like he was being held above an open flame. His brain started to throb and all his focus was on his residual limb. It was like the world faded around him while his left leg only became more pronounced, demanding his attention as the only existing thing in his mind. _._ The world was white noise, just background stuff, and the pain was someone screaming right next to his ear. 

 

“Oi Hinata,” Tanaka-senpai called, “you okay?”

 

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, his voice coming out strained, “just going to take a bathroom break, okay?”

 

With that, he limped off as fast as possible to the locker room. Hinata collapsed on the floor, sweat beading down his forehead and tears squeezing out of his eyes. He took off his prosthetic - knowing very well that it would be annoying to put back on - and grabbed the lotion out of his bag, squirting a liberal amount onto his leg and kneading it with his knuckles, trying to relieve the pain. 

 

———

 

“Don’t you think he’s been in there a while?” Tanaka asked Daichi, who was trying to point out where Kageyama’s serve needed improvement. 

 

“Who’s been in where a while?”

 

“Hinata,” he answered, taking a gulp from his drink bottle, “he went to the toilet like twenty minutes ago.”

 

Daichi looked surprised, and it even caught Kageyama’s attention. “Really?” the captain asked, “that’s strange - it’s really not like Hinata to skip out on training.”

 

Tanaka laughed. “You got that right! He didn’t even _go_ to the toilet - he went in the complete _opposite_ direction to the toilets… maybe to the locker room?” 

 

There was a beat of silence between them, before Kageyama headed out towards the door. “I’ll go check on him.”

 

“You need to practice,” Daichi shot down, “Tanaka, you go look for him.”

 

Kageyama scowled, picked up a stray volleyball and got into position as Tanaka hefted himself off the floor and walked towards the locker room. 

 

———

 

The movement of Hinata’s hands was becoming slower, with more force behind them as he worked away at his leg. He hated this, the pain, but he hated not being able to play volleyball more. He hated not being able to _soar._

 

He let out a sigh, and it seemed to echo in the empty locker room. He wanted to go back and practice, but he wasn’t sure how much running around his leg could take - how long had he been up here anywa-

 

“Hinata you in here?”

 

Something hard and cold dropped to his stomach as the door swung wide open, and Tanaka’s eyes went from his face, to his left uh… thigh. His eyes grew wider and wider along with his mouth and Hinata closed his eyes tight, bracing himself for what he knew was coming. 

 

_“WHAT THE FUCK?!!”_

 

———

 

At the sound of Tanaka  yelling screaming, the team dropped whatever they were doing and ran up to the locker room to find… 

 

Tanaka leaning over Hinata, brandishing a large metal thing that looked _very sharp._ Tanaka was yelling in indecipherable bouts of _HOW THE FUCK_ and _HINATA GET SOME HELP._

 

“What is it?!” Kageyama broke the flabbergasted silence of the rest of the team, “Why does Hinata need help?! What’s wrong??” 

 

Any other time they would have passed it off as Hinata, Tanaka and Kageyama's usual brand of stupidity, but when Tanaka backed away from the first-year, all their minds were blank, save for one or two curse words. 

 

_Hinata was missing half of his left leg._

 

_What Tanaka was waving around a prosthetic._

 

_HOW THE FUCK-_

 

Daichi was just about to open his mouth - to say what, he wasn’t sure exactly - but he was stopped short as Hinata groaned and doubled over, clutching at what was left of his leg and gasping in pain. 

 

And so, Daichi scrapped the mismatched blur of what he was going to say in favour of panicking. 

 

“Oh _god_ Hinata _are you okay??”_ he gushed, running over to his bag for a heat-cold pack, “how the _hell_ have you been playing? How could you run - or _jump -_ like that with… with a…”

 

“A prosthetic leg?” Hinata finished, grimacing out a smile as he took the pack from his captain and pressed it against his leg. 

 

That sent everyone else - bar Tsukishima, although that isn't to say he wasn't just as shocked, or just as worried - into disarray. They grabbed various towel and cans of Air Salonpas, standing around with their minds reeling as they tried to compute the fact that their strongest decoy was doing everything the were _and more…_

 

_…With a prosthetic leg._

 

It didn’t seem _real._ This situation is something you’d see in an _anime_ or a _drama_ or one of those feel-good sports movies, it didn’t belong in _real life._

 

“uh… could someone please um… take me to the infirmary?” Hinata asked meekly, white-knuckled hands gripping at his residual limb. 

 

Suga pushed Asahi towards the small boy, who gathered him in his arms and took off towards the infirmary, closely followed by the rest of the team, Tanaka still holding the prosthetic. They must have been quite a sight - the _entire boy’s volleyball team_ being _extremely loud_ as they moved through the corridors in a bundle of nerves and yelling. 

 

Needless to say, the school nurse was _extremely_ surprised when they basically busted her door down. She had silenced them with a few taut words, told Asahi to put Hinata on the bed while she prepared something over on the other side of the room. 

 

Kageyama, not knowing quite what to do, found himself right beside the bed. Hinata’s face was scrunched up in pain, and not the kind of pain you feel after losing a match, but the kind you feel when someone stabbed you through the gut. 

 

And Hinata looked like someone _was_ stabbing him through the gut. Very slowly and very painfully. 

 

Kageyama had never felt more powerless, so he did the first thing he thought of: Kageyama drew one of Hinata’s hands away from his limb and held it tightly in his own. 

 

“Squeeze my hand the more it hurts,” he murmured, ears burning and extremely glad no one had said anything about it (it was only a matter of time though). 

 

Hinata’s grip was crushing, and Kageyama finally let the amazement sink on of _Hinata has a prosthetic leg and yet he can play like that?? Like he’s_ _the_ _an ace????_

 

The nurse gave Hinata a localised aesthetic and an IV drip, called his mother to tell her what happened and left - not before warning the volleyball club not to break anything in her absence. 

 

It was silent for a few seconds, before Hinata took a deep breath, and began to speak:

 

“I… um, guess I have a lot of explaining to do?” 

 

With that, Hinata revealed everything that happened from when he was ten years old and had been run over by a car. He told them about seeing the Small Giant on TV, about the long sessions and the gruelling trials he had to go through and what it was like to stand on two legs for the first time in years. 

 

He told them about the homeschooling and the _casual walking,_ and the feeling of running and jumping in his first match ever, which he couldn’t explain without telling them about his _complete_ and _utter hatred_ of Kageyama. None of them believed _that_ for a second and Kageyama held Hinata’s hand through the whole story. 

 

_“What have you been doing for the past three years?”_ he remembers asking. 

 

Oh, he _really shouldn’t have asked that._

 

“Y-you’re amazing,” Suga-san stuttered in awe. 

 

“Right?” Nishinoya agreed, “I can’t believe our Shou-chan is that cool!”

 

Hinata laughed awkwardly and gripped Kageyama’s hand tighter. “So… I guess I’m gonna have to stop playing now?” 

 

Kageyama’s head snapped up. “Why would you have to go and do that, dumbass?” he exclaimed. 

 

“B-because I have the… prosthetic,” Hinata pointed out, eyes wide and gold and staring right into Kageyama’s. 

 

“And you’ve had the prosthetic _this entire time,_ what would _us knowing_ do anything about it?” he retorted sharply, “Keep trusting me, keep jumping as high as you can and I’ll keep tossing to you.”

 

Tsukishima snickered. _“‘As long as I’m here, you’re invincible’_ huh King?” 

 

Kageyama’s cheeks flared up and he whirled around. “No! That’s not- I mean, I just-“

 

The door burst open. 

 

“What’s going on?!” Ukai yelled, panicking as they all were not twenty minutes ago, “I come to the school only to find out you lot have gone on a rampage!”

 

“Uh… sensei,” Suga-san started, moving out of Ukai’s vision so he could see Hinata on the bed, “there’s a perfectly good reason for it - we found out about Hinata’s prosthetic leg.”

 

“Hinata’s _WHAT?!”_

 

“Prosthetic leg,” Hinata repeated, “you know already, don’t you sensei? Because of the medical records?”

 

_“I skimmed them! Why do you have a prosthetic leg?!”_

 

“Car accident. When I was ten.” Hinata was feeling strangely calm about it all now. 

 

“You’re not kicking Hinata off the team because of this,” Kageyama said firmly, and everyone nodded. 

 

_“Of course I’m not! You idiots!! We need our strongest decoy for the Spring Tournament!”_ Ukai yelled, _“but how the fuck have you been playing all this time with that? Don’t prosthetics hurt?!”_

 

“Yes. A _lot,”_ Hinata agreed, still holding Kageyama’s hand, “but I _am_ going to become the ace after all!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karasuno’s been invited on a training camp. Of course everything’s going to go exactly to plan and no one’s going to find out Hinata’s secret. At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo!
> 
> So this one’s a bit all over the place - sorry about that. Some context: They have already had the first training camp (the one where Hinata and Kageyama fought) bc I needed them to know each other so for the convenience of the plot there’s another one except only Nekoma and Fukurōdani. 
> 
> SPOILERS FOR THE SPRING TOURNAMENT RESULTS N STUFF 
> 
> Pairing: Mild Kagehina
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, very OOC characters
> 
> Disclaimer: nope.
> 
> Enjoy!

The weekend after what Hinata liked to call ‘that time we all yelled a lot,’ Kageyama went with him to the shops, to buy various volleyball gear they both needed - kneepads, a pump, the new issue of the magazine and… shorts. 

 

It felt like a date. 

 

_This isn’t a date,_ Hinata kept telling himself throughout the day, cheeks burning and hand twitching towards Kageyama’s own. 

 

“You can’t keep wearing tracksuit pants all the time dumbass,” the setter had told him from outside the changeroom, “I like my spikers alive thank you very much.”

 

Hinata almost fell over, halfway into tugging the shorts on, at the _‘my spikers’_ bit. 

 

_It’s a figure of speech,_ he reminded himself, _this isn’t a date._

 

Shaking his head and pulling the black garment up to his hips, he couldn’t help but gaze at the mirror in awe of the fact that he was actually at a point in his life where he could play volleyball _wearing shorts._

 

“Oi why are you taking so long?” came Kageyama’s voice through the door, “they’re not that hard to put on.”

 

Hinata unlocked the door and opened it a crack. “Come in here if you want to look, I’m not going out where everyone can see me.”

 

Because despite the fact that he could run, walk, jump, receive- do _everything_ other people could (his receives might need a bit of work, admittedly), the pitying looks people flash his way feel like they’re burning onto his skin, like he’s weighed down by his metal leg. 

 

Kageyama came in, and he tried not to look as depressed as the thoughts made him feel. 

 

“They’ll be fine,” he said, staring into the mirror as well. Hinata was suddenly aware of how _really fucking small this cubicle is,_ “they’re good for volleyball - I have the same ones.”

 

_This isn’t a date, you don’t want to hold his hand and you most certainly do not want to kiss him._

 

(Well, he might.)

 

(A bit.)

 

(Maybe.)

 

Hinata Shōyō turned up for their five am race on Monday in tracksuit pants, and Kageyama was slightly put out, but knew how he felt about people treating him differently, or people seeing his prosthetic, so Kageyama only grinned, called him _dumbass_ for being late and tried desperately to chalk up his racing heart to the exercise. 

 

Hinata Shōyō turned up for his five am race with Kageyama with the feeling of having way too much clothing on. In order to shield his leg from prying eyes, he had put his tracksuit pants on over his shorts and three layers while riding a bike was _way too many._

 

Kageyama won. 

 

_(Barely.)_

 

In the locker room, Hinata waited until Kageyama had left to start setting up before taking a deep breath, pulling off his long pants and shoving them into his bag. 

 

When he went down, the only recognition the setter had to his change in attire was a slight smile - one of the rare, non-creepy ones that made his heart squeeze - before immediately setting a ball. Hinata bent at the knees, his thighs tensing before speeding off towards the ball and spiking it down with a loud _thwak!_

 

———

 

“Another training camp? With everyone?!” Hinata exclaimed, making half the class turn to him in surprise. It was lunch time, and Tsukishima had just told him that they were going to a training camp organised by Nekoma to “keep the healthy competition alive,” which made Hinata roll his eyes because _as if that was ever going to die._

 

“Unfortunately,” Tsukishima drawled, a smirk creeping across his lips, “good luck keeping your little _secret_ while we’re there.”

 

Hinata was buzzing as he went back to his seat, feet tapping on the ground and fingers fidgeting on the desk. Once the excitement had settled in, what Tsukishima said resonated in his and something black and awful in his gut started to spread. At first he thought he was dying, but then he recognised it as _dread._

 

Dread, for the feeling of having to train for hours in tracksuit pants, after months and months of wearing shorts.

 

Dread, for the possibility of someone finding out and laughing, or reporting him, or benching him, or telling everyone or-

 

Oh god _what was he going to do?_

 

The first step would be to find Kageyama. The first step was _always_ to find Kageyama. 

 

Hinata started to rise from his seat when the bell rang. 

 

After school practice it was then. 

 

The period flew by in familiar pain and things he probably should have listened to. _This is probably why I’m so bad at school,_ he thought to himself idly, staring both outside the window and at his reflection. 

 

The ball rang and he shot out of that classroom so fast there weren’t any other students out in the hallways yet. 

 

He found Kageyama at the vending machines, and immediately ran up to him, jumping up and putting his hands on the setter’s shoulders to assure Hinata had gotten his attention. 

 

Kageyama’s head smashed into the vending machine. 

 

Well… Hinata _certainly_ had his attention now. 

 

Without even grabbing the drink he had head-butted the buttons for, Kageyama chased after the overly energetic spiker all the way to the gym, where he took refuge behind Asahi-san, chest heaving and sweat running down his forehead. 

 

“What was that for dumbass?!” Kageyama roared, “you pushed me into a fucking _metal box!”_

 

“It was an accident!” Hinata exclaimed squeakily. 

 

There it was. _The smile._ The one that sent chills slipping down his spine like ice. 

 

“How the _fuck_ could that have been an accident?!”

 

Hinata chuckled nervously, still hiding. “Well, Tsukishima told me about the training camp and at first I was like _bwaa!_ and _aaaAAA!_ but then I remembered I’d have to wear long pants and long pants _really suck_ and also everyone would get suspicious but I didn’t know what to do so I went to find you but the bell rang and-“ he took a deep breath, “so I had to sit down and my leg was kinda hurting so I didn’t end up listening to anything the teacher said but when class ended I ran out to find you because I thought you’d know what to do so I wanted to get your attention and I ended up jumping on you _sorry!!”_

 

Kageyama blinked. 

 

“Wait did you say your leg hurt?”

 

“Was that _all_ you got from that story?” Hinata groaned, “That’s nothing _special!_ What about the fact that I’m going to have to _hide my prosthetic again?!”_

 

“Oh, yeah…”

 

Daichi put a hand to his chin. “That’s true,” he mused, “Hinata, do you want anyone to find out?”

 

He shook his head frantically. “No, _no!_ It was rare enough that _you guys_ treated me the same, but like… that’s not gonna be with everyone, ya know?”

 

“Hiding it is then!”

 

That afternoon’s training session was spent coming up with a plan to hide Hinata’s _special case -_ a fool-proof _(“you can’t say that,” Tsukishima added, “if you say it’s fool proof the idiot duo won’t be able to do it.”)_ story as to why the shorty wasn’t able to bath along with everyone else, or why he wasn’t wearing shorts in the hot gym, or why he sometimes disappeared for long periods of time in the bathroom (he has embarrassing scars, especially on his legs, and he gets sick _extremely easily -_ in fact, he might just have a cold _right now_ ). 

 

And so, Hinata was forced to accept his fate that come Thursday, he was going back to that overheated, sweaty hell. 

 

The only thing keeping him alive was Kageyama’s tentative offer of late night practice. Which Daichi shot down immediately of course, but the look they shared reassured him they would find a loophole. 

 

Hinata blushed, and looked away. 

 

———

 

(Pain.)

 

Sitting on a bus for god-knows-how-long was _not_ good. For anything. A burning sensation was shooting up his leg, making Hinata grit his teeth and clutch at his pants, the seat, Kageyama - _anything -_ with a white-knuckled grip. 

 

He _hated_ long drives. 

 

Limping off the bus, Hinata planned to get to the room as fast as possible - they were organised by teams luckily - so he could just _take the_ _fucking thing off_ but it turns out Nekoma were heading to practice when they saw the bus pull up, so they had come to greet Karasuno. 

 

(Pain.)

 

_Fuck my life._

 

“Hey Shōyō,” Kenma greeted monotonously. 

 

“H-hey…”

 

The corners of Kenma’s lips turned down. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

 

( P a i n . )

 

“Yea, I just get… carsick,” Hinata chuckled humourlessly.

 

Kageyama’s head snapped towards him, before hooking an arm around his shoulders and starting to steer him away. 

 

“He should lie down for a bit,” he told Kenma, “I’ll take him to the room.”

 

Nodding, the setter went back to Kuroo, who was teasing Tsukishima mercilessly and Kageyama almost wished he could be there to witness it. 

 

Almost. 

 

For now, Hinata was in pain, and he had to get him to the room. Daichi had told him the number and how to get there so, with Hinata leaning heavily on him and orange hair tickling his nose, the pair made their way into the building. 

 

In his mind, Kageyama knew that in order to need a prosthetic, one would have to… y’know, _not have a leg,_ but there was still a flare of panic in his chest when he went away to get a glass of water and came back to Hinata sitting with his back against the wall, digging his knuckles into a stump where his knee should be. 

 

“Here,” was all he said, passing the glass of water to him and trying not to spill any. 

 

Hinata winced slightly as he took his hands away. “Thanks.”

 

They sat in silence. It wasn’t awkward - Kageyama was too worried for it to be awkward and pain hung around Hinata like haze - but he couldn’t help but feel slightly helpless at the whole situation. 

 

Hinata was _right next to him,_ and in _unimaginable_ pain, judging from the scrunched up features, quivering lower lip and tears gathering at the edges of his eyes. 

 

“Is… is there anything I can do?” he asked cautiously, the tips of his ears burning red at how he sounded. 

 

It was something open and worried and so unlike _Kageyama Tobio_ that he wanted to scream. 

 

Hinata looked up at him. “You… don’t happen to have any heat-cold packs on you, would you?”

 

Kageyama shook him head. “Sorry, I left them all on the bus.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Silence, save for the odd sharp intake of breath from the boy sitting next to him who managed to play volleyball better than anyone he had ever seen - _yes_ it was true and he will _fight anyone_ who disagrees with him - with _one fucking leg._

 

He couldn’t- it was just- _holy fuck wow._

 

“…The freezer in the kitchen might have ice,” he said after a bit, “I’ll go check.”

 

Hinata smiled, and it burned into his back as he turned around and exited the room. 

 

The freezer did in fact have ice. He wrapped some of the cubes in a plastic bag and tied it with a fairly shitty knot before bringing it back to Hinata, who smiled - _like the fucking sun,_ he might add - and pressed it to the stump with a hiss. 

 

They sat like that for a while, and Kageyama’s chest grew strangely lighter with each crease that vanished from Hinata’s brow. There was a weight against his side, and when he looked down he found that the smaller boy had fallen asleep on him. 

 

The bag of ice was now a bag of water and somewhere in his mind he knew the shitty knot wouldn't hold but for some reason he just wanted to stay like this for a while longer. 

 

It was a decision he turned out to regret, as they were both awoken by water splashing onto both of their thighs and seeping into the floor beneath them. Cursing, Kageyama ran out to grab a towel while Hinata rolled away from the puddle, clutching the soggy bag and laughing. 

 

———

 

Hinata was all geared up and changed by dinner time, regretting everything and hating his tracksuit pants more than ever. 

 

At least there was air con. 

 

“Yo Hinata!” Bokuto called, “heard you got another case of your infamous nausea!”

 

“I-infamous?” Hinata stuttered, looking over to Kageyama to clarification, who just shrugged. 

 

Kuroo raised an eyebrow at the pair. “And where were you two all afternoon?” 

 

“Ah~ does Hinata have a knight- sorry, a _king_ in shining armour?” Bokuto smirked. 

 

Before Kageyama could do anything however, they were called over by Daichi. 

 

“Always ruining our fun,” Bokuto pouted. 

 

Kuroo shrugged, draping an arm over Kenma’s shoulders but was immediately shrugged off with the excuse of _“not now Kuroo, I’m in a boss battle!”_

 

“Are you okay Hinata?” Suga asked as the pair sat down at the end of the table. 

 

“Yea!” Nishinoya added, his mouth full, “you two just darted off like that! _Schwoom!_ No warning.”

 

Hinata nodded, reaching for a piece of meat with his chopsticks before he was stopped short… by another pair of chopsticks. 

 

_Kageyama’s_ to be exact. 

 

“It’s mine,” he said immediately. 

 

“That’s _bullshit,”_ Kageyama countered. 

 

A silent countdown between them, before they both lunged for the piece of meat arguing that _“there’s heaps more on other plates, why are you going for this one?!”_ and _“I could ask you the same thing dumbass!”_

 

“At least they’re back to normal,” Suga chuckled. 

 

———

 

Morning practice was literally the _worst_ practice Hinata had ever gone to. And that included the ones he held _for himself_ in middle school _by himself._

 

How many times he had been asked why he was wearing tracksuit pants (this happened last training camp too): I I I I I I I I I I I I

 

How many times if he wanted to borrow their spare shorts: I I I I I I 

 

How many times he had been asked if he was okay: _too many to fucking count._

 

The penalty of flying falls was still in place, which - although they didn’t lose _quite_ as much as they did last time - just about _murdered_ every single nerve ending in his leg, and he didn’t know _how_ they didn’t find him out just from the awful metallic _thump-clunk!_ his leg made with every fall. 

 

(The late-night practices with Kageyama were good though, it was just like their 5 am practices except much cooler because they were in a _really big gym._ Technically it wasn’t the middle of the night, so they weren’t disobeying Daichi but the best part was that Hinata could wear _shorts!)_

 

On the last night, everyone had pushed everyone else into staying up way too late for how _impossibly_ tired they all were, but they figured _hey! only one practice match tomorrow and then it’s all over, so at least we only have to be dead on our feet for one!!_

 

Which meant Hinata couldn’t slip away to take his prosthetic off, and he had used up the amount of bathroom breaks it was socially acceptable to take within two hours, so he was stuck. 

 

(Pain.)

 

The - for lack of a better word - party - there was no better word because _that’s exactly what it fucking was -_ had stopped being fun ages ago. Hinata was far too preoccupied with making sure his pants didn’t ride up or no one jostled him too hard and it was almost 2 am and he was _so fucking tired._

 

That’s when coach Nekoma burst through the door. “What are you kids doing up? There’s still matches tomorrow! Go to bed!”

 

_My saviour!!_

 

And so, grumbling and groaning, the volleyball players said their goodnights and crashed almost immediately after they stopped moving. 

 

Hinata woke up to silence. 

 

It felt like he hadn’t slept _at all_ and it was horrible. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw that there was no one else in the room - just discarded blankets and clothes strewn across the room. 

 

Panic bubbled up in his throat at the thought that he was potentially gonna miss breakfast and he quickly ran over to his bag and pulled fresh clothes on, not even registering what colour or what they had on them, just that he needed to get downstairs. 

 

There was no way in hell he was gonna play a match on an empty stomach after last night. 

 

After Hinata had put his prosthetic on, he hobbled/ran with his eyes half-closed, his brain only allowing him to think of one thing - _get to breakfast._

 

(Which, in retrospect, was a really dumb one thing to focus on.)

 

Throwing open the door with a loud _bang!_ , Hinata stumbled into the room. “Di’ I miss anyfin’?” he slurred, rubbing his eyes. 

 

When he drew his hand away, he noticed everyone staring at him in various stages of shock - slack jawed, wide-eyed, scream-building _shock,_ and Hinata didn’t understand why until he looked down.

 

He was wearing shorts. 

 

Something acidic and deadly dropped down to his stomach, eroding away at him and sending ricochets up his spine. 

 

This was bad. 

 

Oh this was _very, very bad._

 

Hinata stood there for a split second before doing the first thing his sleep-addled mind could think of. 

 

He ran the fuck away. 

 

Back upstairs, back into Karasuno’s room and back under the covers, where he could pretend nothing happened and everything was fine. 

 

At least for now. 

 

———

 

Everyone was staring at the spot Hinata stood in not three seconds ago, a stunned silence settling over them like a blanket. 

 

No one said anything, but then, just quietly:

 

_“What the fuck was that?”_

 

It was Lev, and more whispers soon followed, growing louder and louder as Karasuno exchanged wary looks and Tanaka banged his head on the table. 

 

Kageyama wordlessly got up and followed after Hinata. 

 

No one teased him for it. 

 

“Karasuno!!” Bokuto yelled, pointing a finger straight at Asahi, “What the _fuck_ was that?! What’s going on?!”

 

“That’s not something we can tell you,” Daichi answered diplomatically, “I’m sure Hinata will turn up to the practice match - you’ll just have to ask him then.”

 

_“What??”_ Kuroo joined in, “We find out that Chibi-chan has.. has…”

 

He was interrupted by Kenma pulling his sleeve, making him fall back. “Kuroo, leave it. Let’s just ask Shou later.”

 

That might have silenced Kuroo - and the majority of Nekoma - but Bokuto had resorted to yelling at Akaashi, who still remained in the frozen shock state. 

 

Karasuno breathed a collective sigh. This is _not_ how anyone imagined the training camp would go.

 

———

 

“Hinata?” Kageyama called as he entered the room, heading over towards the quivering lump of blankets. 

 

“What do you want?” his voice was muffled from all the layers. 

 

“For a start, isn’t it hot in there dumbass?”

 

“What are they saying? Has anyone written me off from volleyball yet?”

 

Kageyama huffed and leant back. “I don’t know. Everyone was mainly just yelling when I left. And swearing.”

 

“Does Kenma hate me?”

 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but I seriously doubt he would hate you over something like this.”

 

“What if the coaches ban me from playing? What if I can’t play against Shiratorizawa? _What if I’m not allowed to play volleyball any more?”_

 

Kageyama closed his eyes for a count of two. “First of all - you can’t be very comfortable like that. Come out.”

 

The bundle shook resolutely. 

 

_Fine, have it your way then,_ he thought, grasping a handful of the thick quilt and jerking it away, revealing Hinata Shōyō in all his bad-bed-hair, watery-eyed, trembling glory.

 

Kageyama’s heart hurt like it was being squeezed, but he didn’t know why. 

 

He placed a hand on Hinata’s head, ruffling his hair softly. “We, Karasuno’s, completely fine with it aren’t we?” 

 

Hinata nodded under his fingertips. 

 

“So what makes you think everyone else won’t?”

 

“Be-because their _faces_ and… and…”

 

Kageyama sighed. “Alright, new tactic: why the fuck should you care if they don’t like it?”

 

Hinata’s eyes widened in surprise and Kageyama pulled his hand back. “Huh?”

 

“Dumbass you’re playing volleyball at _national level_ with a _prosthetic -_ who the _fuck_ cares if someone else thinks you shouldn’t play volleyball? You’ve definitely more than proven you can.”

 

A small smile. A giggle. “I guess…”

 

“You _guess?”_ he echoed, “I’m always right. You’re Hinata fucking Shōyō, now put your kneepad on or we’ll be late to the practice match. If anyone pisses you off just serve it at their head- of _wait,_ that’s right. You can’t aim.”

 

This time he really _did_ laugh. “Bakageyama! You’re meant to be cheering me up!”

 

“This _is_ me cheering you up - and who said that’s what I was doing anyways?”

 

Hinata pulled on his kneepads and shoved Kageyama with his shoulder before darting out into the hallway, cheeks bright red and hands hiding his face at the fact that not only had he actually gone out of his way to cheer Hinata up, but he had said his first name, and up until now Hinata had thought all those dumb mangas were _especially_ dumb for including the he-said-my-first-name! trope, but he didn’t think it was an actual _thing_ holy _shit._

 

They opened the gym doors to find a half-hearted practice with distracted players but everyone still looked _incredibly_ threatening to Hinata and the self-esteem Kageyama (of all people) had built up dropped like a watermelon off a skyscraper. 

 

Then the noise came. 

 

Almost everyone was yelling or shouting but Hinata seriously considered taking a train back to Miyagi when they started _running_ at him. 

 

Being run at by a bunch of tall people who were probably angry at him for deceiving them was _really fucking scary. 0/10 would not recommend._

 

“You are _amazing!”_

 

Ok. That’s something he wasn’t expecting. “What?”

 

“I agree. Totally,” Bokuto told him, “I’m still digesting the fact that _your only have one leg though like what the shit-“_

 

“Shōyō,” Kenma interrupted, “nice job.”

 

Kuroo ruffled Kenmas hair. “He’s so cute, trying to be cool and emotionless like that- I agree though. Never saw it coming.”

 

With a wink, the bickering pair receded into the crowd. 

 

Hinata spent the practice match time answering a billion and one questions - What happened? Do you have to get an extra-long run up? What happens if we put you near a magnet? - but the coaches didn’t seem to mind. 

 

He was still in awe of how they were all _totally and completely_ fine with it. He had half his left leg? Who cares!

 

He was always really shit at keeping secrets anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry I wrote most of this at like 1 in the morning and couldn’t be fucked to edit -__- (Thanks to ilikefandomsmorethanpeople on tumblr for looking over it for me tho!!)
> 
> Please tell me what you thought or if there were any mistakes I made that can be fixed and I hope you have a good day/night/timezone thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Endings?? How to???
> 
> Did you know that there's actually a thing called ghost limb where people can still feel the limb that's been amputated. It happens bc the part of the brain that was responsive to that limb doesn't just disappear, so sometimes if you poke people in specific places, they feel it in the lost limb... that's kinda freaky and rlly cool to me. 
> 
> Ahh this is my first work in the Haikyuu!! fandom ^u^
> 
> Anyway I wrecked my sleep schedule even more to finish this, so please tell me what you thought, and don’t hesitate to point out any mistakes - especially regarding the prosthetic. I couldn’t find much on taking off and taking off the leg so I have no idea how that works but I hope you found it realistic enough??
> 
> As always,
> 
> Thornsword.


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